


two short words

by ghoulish



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, it'll work its way back around to it, it's not quite a slow burn but i can promise a whole lot of pining, this started its life as fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25304065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulish/pseuds/ghoulish
Summary: Catra is certain of a few things, and they all relate to Adora. She's certain that she sound of her laugh makes everyone else laugh around her. She knows the best way to fall asleep is curled up next to her. She would do anything for Adora, and sometimes that terrifies her.She never needed a mark to tell her Adora was her soulmate; she just wishes Adora could see it too.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Adora," Catra said. She padded into the room, up on her toes until she came to a rest behind where Adora sat on her bunk. She was exactly how she had been that morning: frowning down at her wrist which, looking over her shoulder, Catra saw was still blank.

Catra knew she'd left. There were drills and classes and meetings, but she had come right back to this spot. Their spot.

She adjusted to take her place by Adora's side, studying her features instead of where the words would inevitably show up. They always did, but she wasn't surprised it was going like this. For all Adora pretended not to put anything on the marks, Catra knew she had long romanticized it. For all it was certain she would get one, there was a universal fear of being the exception.

Sometimes, Catra wished she'd been. Some days, she screamed into her pillow and felt like she'd never stop.

"Still nothing, huh?" asked Catra.

"Shh," Adora replied, like speaking might somehow scare it off. "It's supposed to be today."

"It _will_ be today, and staring at it isn't going to make it appear any faster." 

"Easy for you to say, yours was there when you woke up."

That was what she told Adora. That she woke up early and chose to cover her mark up with only a glance; she readily claimed she had long forgotten what it said. Even now, Catra's wrapped arm rested protectively against her stomach, hidden from the world and Adora specifically. The most important words that were ever going to be said to her, and she adamantly refused to show her best friend.

Catra curled herself into the place beside Adora, the spot she had always simply fit, and settled in for what could be seconds or hours still. From her position, she could feel her tension, how she was holding every breath. The anxiety was familiar, and neither of them were particularly patient people.

All that from a touch. She didn't know anyone better. Hell, Adora knew her better than herself. This could put it in writing. Literally.

"Not breathing isn't going to make it show up," Catra said lyrically, barely making it a minute without giving in to bugging her. She laughed at Adora half-swatting at, half-shushing her in response.

"Will you quit it. You're not—oh!" Adora grabbed Catra's wrist, squeezing it hard while, sure enough, letters slowly began tracing their way across her skin.

Her stomach flipped. She wasn't ready. She shouldn't even be here for this, let alone be the nervous one, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. Her wrist tingled with a ghost of the sensation Adora was feeling, reminding her of what this could mean.

It was a ridiculous hope, that this would point her in Catra's direction. She had always been right here, and Adora had always been waiting for this moment. 

83 days ago, Catra's soulmate mark confirmed what she already knew. No ambiguity, no hope of it being anyone else. 

_Hey, Adora._

The words were clear on her best friend's skin, and Catra squeezed her eyes shut. Adora had to know. She had to see it.

It was her turn to hold her breath. 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Adora said. "That's it?" 

Catra forced a laugh and put on a smug smile. Apparently not.

"Oh, you are gonna have a real fun time with that." 

She was lucky, really, that Adora was so fixated. It was a gift that she kept prodding at the inside of her arm like another clue might appear.

It meant she wasn't looking at Catra, who was barely holding it together. It gave her a minute to push down the feelings she was ready to lay bare. She'd been doing it for years; it wasn't anything new. 

If she wanted to see it, if Adora felt about Catra the way she did about her, she would have read between those two words.

Why couldn't it have been something more obvious?

Adora sighed.

"I can't believe this is what I get," said Adora. "Two words that have probably been said to me a thousand times by a thousand different people—"

"You don't know a thousand people," Catra interjected, looking for the rhythm. She must have found it because she was hit across the head by a pillow. Clearly, she was off not having seen that one coming. "Hey!" 

"As I was saying, I don't even know where to start."

"I'd go with a list," Catra said unhelpfully. Adora gave her a look. "Come on, it could be fun. I'll start."

"Hey, Catra," Kyle said as he walked in before she got the chance. "Hey, Adora."

"Kyle!" they both shouted before dissolving into laughter at the absurdity of it. 

Enough berating without context got him to leave, and they tumbled back into bed, still giggling.

"Your face," Catra laughed, "when he said that. You looked at Kyle the way I usually do."

She felt Adora move next to her and when she opened her eyes, there she was with a mischievous look on her face. There was a moment of playful jostling that usually came from one of them trying to take something from the other, quick teasing swipes that ended with Adora straddling Catra, one arm pinned and reaching for the other.

"Let me see it!" 

"No!" she protested, only half-trying to buck her off. 

"Come on! I didn't even try to hide my mark. Now, we're even." 

She freed the end of the wrapping, and Catra's whole mood flipped. She pushed her off—nearly off the bed with how unprepared Adora was—and settled at the end of it, tucking the fabric back into place.

"I said, no, Adora," Catra said darkly. She held her wrist, as if the words needed another layer of protection. 

"Catra, I'm sorry." 

She could tell how much she meant it. That was part of the problem with Adora. She always had to be so damn sincere. She couldn't let anyone be mad at her, including Catra. _Especially_ Catra, whose moods were always quick to change, and her best friend was quicker to forgive.

"It's fine," Catra relented. She turned back to her but didn't relax into the nest they'd created as easily. Moments ago, it was hard to tell what was pillow and what as Adora and what was Catra. The two of them sat in stark contrast now.

"It's not," Adora replied. "I know it's different for you. I just thought... I don't know. That we'd do this together." 

Catra inched closer to her.

"Not yet."

They moved back together, telling stories and laughing lightly, but an undercurrent of caution ran through every sentence. She could feel Adora's guilt for pushing that boundary; she could see her trying to create reasons to replace the ones Catra had never given. She wondered what she would come up with. She didn't care.

Adora curled towards her.

"I'm going to find her, Catra," Adora mumbled, on the edge of sleep.

"I know," she whispered.

"I wonder if she's looking for me." 

She let the idea settle over the quiet room for a minute.

"You never know," Catra replied at last. "Maybe she's already found you." 

Adora muttered a few incoherent words, asleep.

Her breaths marked the time as it turned from seconds towards hours, and Catra surrendered to a sleepless night. It wasn't going to come with Adora wrapped around her, not when she could feel every heartbeat between them.

She slowly peeled away the arm draped over her, settling it in the warm spot she'd previously been filling and shifted to the end of the bed. Adora was still out cold; a miracle, that one. She really hadn't needed to be careful. When she slept, she _slept_.

It went right along with her stubborn streak. When Adora set herself on a path, she stayed firmly on it. There were no exceptions; she always had so much momentum, and she had no idea how Catra fought to keep up.

She already knew this was going to be the same. She wouldn't change Adora's mind. She certainly couldn't tell her.

After all, if Adora loved her, she would have twisted any sentence into a sign. Years— _years_ of greeting her the exact same way, letting the two simple words be whatever she needed. It was hard to believe it was the most important thing she would ever say to her, but maybe she hadn't said the most important one yet. Maybe it was the amalgamation of all of them.

Maybe it would come from someone else.

Her fingers found the edge of the wrapping, carefully unwinding it as the memory pulled together around her.

Catra, wrapped in a blanket and hiding from the world. Adora, who found her anyway and was undeterred by her tears.

She had always known exactly what to say to her. It didn't matter that she was Shadow Weaver's favorite, and Catra never would be. She was _Adora's_ favorite.

Every time Adora looked at her to see if she was laughing she fell a little harder. When she went to Catra first after lessons, she convinced herself that she felt it, too. At her lowest, Adora could come up with the perfect reassurance. She was the only person who ever saw her, and the only one Catra needed to.

She could trace it back to that moment, to those tears.

Her fingers traced over the words. She didn't need to read them. She could still hear Adora saying them, both at five-years-old, and now, if she tried hard enough.

_Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other._

"You promise?" Catra asked the quiet room where she sat alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm planning on four chapters right now with another update coming this weekend.
> 
> It's been a minute since I've written fic, but I cannot get this world out of my system.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a beat of hard silence that only Catra knew the reason behind.

She was, perhaps, the source of it. Adora flinched and looked down, but Catra bristled and fixed each one of them with her unnerving, two-toned stare in turn. 

Kyle shifted, back and forth, opening his mouth and promptly shutting it when her eyes snapped to him. He might think he knew what this was about, but it didn't make it his territory in the slightest. _Kyle_ thinking he could understand after they ran him out of the bunks last night.

That had been in laughter. This wasn't.

"Do you guys think you could avoid saying 'Hey, Adora' for a while?" Adora asked, breaking the silence and looking uncomfortable in her own right. 

"That's ridiculous," Lonnie protested. "It's, what, the most common way to greet you? Catra alone says it a dozen times a day."

"And _I'm_ working on it," she snapped. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adora pushing up her sleeve beside her and forcing a chuckle as she showed everyone the same words inked into her arm. Catra could read in her shrug, in the forced casualness of it all, that she didn't want this to be tense. 

Because that was what Adora did. Ever perfect, ever considerate, putting her own comfort aside to make sure that everyone else was like a damn saint. It was why she would be a Force Captain one day, and why people followed her before she was one. Adora was the only person she didn't have to beg to get that sort of attention from. She was the only one she wanted it from to begin with.

She could make this easier for her, but all she wanted to do was watch the scene from the rafters. She settled on the middle: watching each and every one of them with her unnerving gaze from 

"And if one of _us_ is your precious soulmate?" Lonnie pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Catra didn't want to followed anyway. She didn't want pandering or people looking to her a gentle hand, guiding them toward the next move. She wanted Kyle, trembling when she caught his eye for a few seconds longer than everyone else. Written in wide eyes and hands pulled toward his chest was how badly he wanted to look away but couldn't. 

She smirked; he wilted.

It gave her the strength to deal with Lonnie who would sooner shock herself in the foot than give Catra an ounce of credit, let alone respect. It was fine. She didn't want it anyway.

Catra narrowed her eyes at the girl, still a year younger but already exhibiting signs that she was going to be just as cagey about her mark as she was.

For different reasons. For the ones Catra manufactured, the ones she swore up and down were true.

"I don't know," Adora said with the nervous laugh that made Catra's stomach flip all the wrong ways. "You're all bound to slip up, right? Then I'll know, I guess."

She was rubbing at the back of her neck, and Catra wished the floor would swallow her whole.

"For the power of Hordak, can we please get started?" she asked, shattering the tension with her classic impatience. "I need to hit something."

"And here I thought you always had something better to do than drills with how you wait to help until the last possible second," Lonnie irritatingly but reliably returned. 

"Yeah, well, you'd fail without me, and anything is better than listening to another moment of this. First one to take down ten princesses gets Kyle's ration bars." 

"Awe, man," Kyle protested. It was distant already as Catra pounced to one of the obstacles, gracefully working her way up to the high perch where she could keep all of them at a distance. 

* * *

Catra flipped off the top of one of the bots, her claws catching on the side, and dragging a few feet before her other hand found purchase deep inside the bot's core processor. That made nine for her—a high, considering her habit in of waiting until the end and swooping in to save the day, but she really wanted to be the one to put that resigned look on Kyle's face.

Still hanging from the toppled shell, she turned to find Adora to kick their verbal dance into action before they inevitably wound up toe-to-toe. 

It was perfect timing to see her narrowing in on one simulated princess so completely that she missed the one barreling down on her from behind.

"Hey—heads up, Adora!" The damn words jumbled together as she tried to keep from the best way of getting her attention to avoid distracting her with an inane correction when she needed to be focused. 

Catra let out a low, discontented growl before leaping forward, taking out Adora just in time for her _not_ to become bot-meat, and winding up face-to-face on top of her instead. It wasn't new, but irritation twisted inside her instead of the usual warmth.

"Can't I just say 'hey, Adora?' when it comes to saving your life?" she asked with a sharp edge. That wasn't the plan. It was supposed to be playful; it was supposed to fit them like a glove. Instead, she got to read her best friend's and soulmate's expression as it twisted from relief to what Adora would call "unreadable." It wouldn't be bad, but the dead tell was it only came out when she was upset.

"Catra—" Adora started, but Catra was already up and off her.

"Whatever," she interrupted. "I'll let it hit you next time."

She didn't help her up.

* * *

Catra frequently came to training alone, but it was usual for her to leave it that way.

There was a time where she would slip out of the simulations before they turned into debriefs, but only when she'd been able to prod Adora into coming with her. As it became increasingly clear that she was destined for big things and fancy titles, she started taking it more seriously and staying more often. At first, Catra let her, slinking away with her tail between her legs and hoping Adora watched her go.

One time, she looked back and saw the expression on Adora's face while she did just that.

It did more to get her to stay than any lecture from Shadow Weaver ever had. The slight frown dampened her ever present optimism, and Catra could see how it pressed through when she turned to look back. Adora was always too readable, and clear as day, she could tell she thought today might be the day Catra would turn around and come back.

She couldn't. She didn't know how. But the next day, she waited, and how Adora smiled made it worth it.

Today, she didn't stay.

She walked a quick, straight path to the tallest structure in the Fright Zone. The desire pushing her to run was soon satiated by her claws biting into metal as she started to climb.

Adora couldn't make the climb as fast as she could, limited by study hand- and footholds. Catra never had that issue, finding purchase against invisible lips. When they raced up as kids, desperate to win, she'd tore apart the skin beneath her claws time and time again. She was scarred and calloused enough now that it didn't even sting, trying to focus on Shadow Weaver yelling at her for the willful damage instead of Adora wrapping them and placing a kiss on each of her fingertips.

Her frustration burned as heat behind her eyes. She was _not_ going to cry. It wasn't going to beat her this time.

She paused, right under the ledge to wipe her eyes before digging in one last time and pulling herself up and over. Three steps, and she folded in on herself. Her legs bent and tucked up against her chest, giving her chin the perfect place to rest. Her arms wrapped around her shins, and her tail followed along the angles of her hips and knees. She always felt better when she was contained. She didn't lash out when she was smaller.

Anyone who tried to get her out of this state would say that wasn't true. Anyone who wasn't Adora. If she even came today; Catra wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

 _Stupid_. She was so stupid, telling her she should be allowed to say it. Forget how clear of a tell it was, Adora was struggling with the commonality, and she already wavered in her promise to be on her side. 

It made sense, that she didn't want Catra to be her soulmate, consciously or subconsciously. She was only ever going to let her down.

But did she ever want to be. Under the mercy of Hordak, it was all she ever wanted.

"Catra." Her name was so soft from Adora's lips. Even her footsteps fell louder against the metal, growing louder until Adora settled next to her.

Catra turned away from her, looking out over the Fright Zone to her right. Her point was made despite her tail giving her away and settling a few inches behind where Adora sat; her soulmate sighed, and Catra didn't need to look to know she was sitting with her legs over the edge and her fingers wrapped around the corner on either side.

She cheated a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Neither of them were happy. Good.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Adora said. She never could handle silence. Catra didn't breathe. "You didn't deserve it. You're really the only one who's trying."

Catra squeezed her eyes shut, every part of her focused on not leaning into it. Every last one of her survival instincts was overruling her, from how her ears twitched to catch every word to her fur laying flat and comfortable.

"But you get it, don't you?" Adora continued when Catra steadfastly refused to engage. "I don't mean you understand me better than anyone, I mean—"

"Yeah," Catra interrupted. She opened her eyes and turned into Adora. It was a quick, deft movement going from entirely closed off to looking right at her. "I get it."

One leg still up, one leg dangling off the side, her marked arm tucked as out of sight as she could manage, and willing Adora to see her. To read her as she always had and understand what she wasn't saying.

"Why—"

"Please don't."

"—did you lie to me about not reading it? All you had to say was you didn't want to tell me." 

Catra could see how the lie wounded her, but the most she had the offer was a shrug.

"It's embarrassing," she said, playing it off like it was nothing. "To even say that I don't want to share it puts weight on the damn thing. And maybe you would have respected it, but do you think, I don't know, Scorpia would have?"

"No," Adora chuckled. Catra's heart unclenched. She didn't match her smile, but the fact it was there meant everything. "There's no way she would've. But you could've told just me."

"Fine," Catra admitted. " _I could've told just you_. Whatever." She had to give her something now. She wanted to. "I've had it memorized since the second it appeared on my skin." _Longer_. "Happy?"

"Very," Adora replied. She bumped their shoulders together and didn't move away after.

The silence of the Fright Zone settled around them, with its occasional distant bangs and mystery squawks.

"We make quite the pair," Adora said as dusk settled, throwing deeper reds around them. "But I've got your back, if you've got mine."

Catra smirked and looked at her sideways.

"Promise?" 

"Of course."

Catra bumped Adora with her shoulder, and without a word passing between them, they were laughing not a minute later all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The good news is the next two chapters are already started, and they'll be bringing in some fun new characters and dare I say, the barest inkling of a plot that's not just yearning.
> 
> If you want to hold me accountable for actually finishing them, you can find me on tumblr at ginniebaker!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora isn't entirely emotionally clueless.
> 
> aka five times Catra didn't say "Hey, Adora" and one time she did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since y'all have been real mad at Adora

"Hey, Adora! Over here!" Lonnie calls, waving the two of them over from across the mess.

Adora frowns, her eyebrows knitting together and almost, but not quite, suggesting they sit somewhere else. She only does that for Catra: when she is in one of her moods or was cutdown by Shadow Weaver particularly hard. They laugh and trade inside jokes, and she secretly loves not worrying about the others feeling excluded. It's harder to take it for herself.

Catra starts towards their team without properly looking at her, so Adora works her grimace into a smile and is walking by her side a moment later. 

"You said the forbidden words, Lonnie," Catra says, fluttering her fingers for emphasis. Adora's smile eases as she situates herself among her friends. "It's 'hi, Adora' or 'good morning, esteemed team leader' to you." It's fond, it's familiar, it's everything it should be. She's drawn enough lines in the sand recently, and space has never been hers to take. Catra doesn't have that problem. She's at her best when she uses that power to help others, and too often, that has been Adora.

Has she ever seen her wield it to defend someone else? Adora can't cite it, but Catra must have their whole squadron's back.

"Please accept my sincere apologies, esteemed team leader," Lonnie shoots back. It draws laughs, and Adora breathes a little easier. It's remarkable how quickly this is becoming a joke. She tells herself it's better this way. If nothing else, it's certainly easier.

Catra sits stiffly beside her. She doesn't laugh. Adora notices.

She pokes at her rations—the brown kind, just what she needed—and is happy to listen as the conversation quickly shifts away from her and to today's preparation, tomorrow's raid.

"They should be sending us out there more often," says Lonnie, stabbing her rations as if it was a bot. She holds the skewered bar up and motions widely with it. "We're the best squad they've got."

"I don't know," Kyle says, clutching his fork as tightly as he does his lance. If he'd lighten up even a little, he'd be great. Adora's told him. She'll tell him again before curfew, and probably once more before they head out. She needs him at his best; every day he gets a little closer. "I like the drills. They offer a lot, and—"

"That's ridiculous," Lonnie interrupts. "The field is where the real training happens. We've mastered everything the simulations have to throw at us."

Regelio grumbles, and catches Adora's eye. Before she can say anything, Kyle answers, "Rogelio agrees with me."

"Pretty sure he doesn't," Adora replies, earning what is definitely an appreciative growl.

"I gotta say, I'm on Lonnie's side," Catra says, shocking the table with that true rarity. "There's only so many times I can watch bots kick Kyle's ass. I'm ready to see some princesses do it." 

"Hey!" he protests. It quickly dissolves into betting and ribbing and laughter, and Adora is as part of it as any of them. This is her family, and she loves them. She could never trade Kyle for natural talent or Rogelio for someone they all understood every time. She couldn't replace Lonnie with a true subordinate or Catra with, well, anyone.

Because when Catra bumps their shoulders together and turns to smile at her, she's home and safe, and everything makes sense. No mark can take that away.

* * *

"Hey, Catra! Hey, Adora!" Scorpia waves aggressively from down the hall.

"Can we please go?" Catra asks, low enough for only Adora to hear. "I cannot deal with her today."

"Come on," Adora replies. "She's probably the only person who means well when she does it."

Catra mumbles something unintelligible enough that Adora can treat it as agreement and continue down the hall.

"Hi, Scorpia," she says, hoping this will be quick and knowing it won't be.

"Oh, I did it, didn't I?" She immediately launches in. "I'm so sorry. Darn it. I'm really trying to avoid saying it, but you were there and it slipped right out. I won't do it again." 

"It's alright," Adora says. How can she not forgive her? She knows she's not meant to be with Scorpia. She wonders if that's behind the indifference.

"Except we all know you're going to mess it up again," Catra mutters. She's rigid; she's her strictest defender.

Adora glares at her anyway. All she knows is she won't admonish her, but it doesn't matter since she's interrupted before she says more than the cautionary, "Catra—"

"No, she's right. We all know I'm going to. I can't get it right," Scorpia says. She deflates quickly, going through moods even faster than Catra and more openly than anyone she knows. That alone makes Adora feel like she knows her in more than passing. "Call this an apology for next time, too."

"And call you forgiven for it," Adora replies. She knows Catra is looking at her, and when she gives her a sidelong glance, her eyes are wide and if her jaw were any slacker, it'd be hanging wide open. All she can do is shrug, convey a silent _What?_ She likes well intentioned people.

"You're both so lucky to have marks. I wish I did, but you know. Pincers." She makes a couple pinching motions, smiling all the while. Luck, obligation. Prophecy, nuisance. They call it different things, but that's okay. "But then, I think Catra has fur, and Rogelio has scales, and they both have words, so you never know! Could be something else."

"Do you want mine?" Catra asks sarcastically.

"Only one of my mom's has one, though," Scorpia continues, riding her momentum for a little longer. Adora watches Catra's comment play across her face, the delayed reaction slows her down until she doubles back. "Oh, I couldn't. Even if it was possible. It's yours, silly."

Adora doesn't need to look to know Catra rolls her eyes. She knows her. She's memorized every reaction, every beat. She knows which buttons to push and how exactly to calm her down. Mark or no mark, she would never trade that.

"Believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. You could get overly specific like mine, or generic as shit like Adora. _You're_ lucky." Adora's heart skips a beat. She's supposed to laugh—she can hear it in Catra's voice, and she tries. Everyone knows she's awkward about her mark, it's probably fine that it's forced and stilted, even though it has nothing to do with it. This is the closest thing she's gotten to a hint about what it might say.

"I think it's sweet," Scorpia says, trending towards sad again. Adora is wrenched back to reality, filing her detail away for later because right now, she needs to mediate.

"What Catra means is—"

"No, I don't."

"—I'm sure you have someone out there, your words on their arm, waiting to find you. Not having a mark doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate." For some, maybe. For someone who wants it so bad? Adora hopes not.

"That's so _nice._ "

She senses what's coming. She keeps smiling. She's pretty sure Catra is clueless, and that amusement makes it effortless. 

Not a second later, they're both swept into a hug. Catra unsheathes her claws, the tip of one pressing hard against Adora's thigh. There's nothing to do but ride it out, to press down the giggles she's fighting until this is over.

Or, apparently, until Catra wriggles out. She hits the ground silently, and Adora is alone in the hug for a moment before Scorpia lets go. Her arms—pincers?—are replaced almost immediately by Catra's firm grasp around her forearm. Her claws don't bite into her skin, but it's close. Adora knows it's meant to be taken as a warning, but it doesn't stick; Catra won't hurt her.

"We're going," she says coolly, pulling Adora down the hall. She almost laughs are her scrunched shoulders and ruffled fur, looking more feline than human when she gets like this.

"Okay!" Scorpia says brightly. "Bye, Catra! Bye, Adora!"

"Bye, Scorpia!" Adora walks backwards and sees her wave again, and she thinks she might be good for Catra. They would temper each other.

She waves back.

"She'd be good for you," she says under her breath.

"Shut _up_ ," Catra says, pulling Adora harder. She laughs.

* * *

"Fine. Fine!" Adora hears Catra protesting before she reaches the training room, and she picks up her pace.

She reaches the open doors to see her stomping off to the corner, towing Rogelio along with a hand wrapped around his wrist. Adora sighs. They all know how this is going to go.

"You really shouldn't pair them together," Adora tells their trainer. She doesn't recognize her—at least, that explains why this is happening. Everyone learns. Most the hard way.

"Your teammates made their case," she replies, "and I don't care what personal vendetta they have. You have to work together; you have to train together. Sparring might actually help them work some of this out." She looks too proud of herself.

"It's not that they don't _like_ each other," Adora says incredulously. She knows she's tipping towards angry as she was sure Catra did before, but she has to try to help. "It's—"

"I know you two are Shadow Weaver's favorites and like to think you're in charge, but it's my gym today and I don't give special treatment." She crosses her arms and doesn't seem satisfied when Adora doesn't back down immediately. "Are we clear?" she presses.

"But—"

"One more word that isn't outright agreement, and I'll write you up."

"Fine," Adora says, echoing Catra's resignation. She wants to say that special treatment from Shadow Weaver means working as hard as she can to never impress her. She wants to explain that for Catra, it's getting consistently cutdown when she wants her approval just as much and gets even less. 

Instead, she asks, "Who am I with?"

In minutes, she's worked up a sweat sparring with Lonnie. She's split between taking her frustration out on her and watching Catra and Rogelio carefully. They've made it up until this point but it's mostly thanks to Catra holding back and being lithe enough to dodge whatever he can throw at her.

It won't last. One of them will—

Lonnie sweeps her feet out from under her, and Adora's back hits the mats hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

"Where's your head at, Adora?" Lonnie asks, standing over her with her hands on her hips.

"Waiting for disaster to strike," she answers. 

"Tell me about it," she agrees and offers her a hand up. She's watching something and lets go of Adora's hand too soon, dropping her solidly on her tailbone. 

"Lonnie!"

"Ouch. There it is." Adora twists on the ground and sees Catra and Rogelio entirely, inevitably, stuck together. "That was pretty good. Gotta be some kind of record for them."

She's on her feet before Lonnie's fully finished and is the first one to the pair. Their negligent trainer is nowhere in sight.

Rogelio lets out a distressed growl and doesn't dare move. Catra's fur is fully tangled in the scales on his shoulder, frozen where she tried to block something. 

Adora freezes in her own right.

"Was that a 'Hey—'"

"Now is not the time for your complex, Adora!" It's the first interruption that's actually a good point. She can't see Catra's face. It's probably for the best.

"Okay, okay! I'm on it." Adora reaches up with well trained hands, trying to push loose fur out of the way enough to find the issue when she feels a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"What do you think you're doing?" the trainer asks.

"I'm helping them," Adora says impatiently. She wants to scream.

"They'll get out of this on their own. That's what training is for." The nerve of her to be short. Most realize they were wrong by this point.

"No. They won't. This happens every time they're paired together, and I'm not going to watch my friends get hurt to protect your ego," Adora snaps.

"If this were the field—"

"It's not the field," Adora interrupts. She's done. 

"We have plans for the field," Lonnie adds. The backup comes with a wash of relief. "We don't need them right now." 

"Adora!" Catra calls, panic rising in her voice. 

"Kyle, grab Catra's legs, so she's not dangling. Lonnie, you know how to file a report." She doesn't have any more words to waste on their trainer. It'll earn a lecture but not a dismissal, so maybe she does get special treatment. Maybe she is protected. She's always going to use it like this.

Adora turns back to them and takes a deep breath. The pause is enough to steady her hands, and she slowly, methodically works her way through the snare.

* * *

Catra starts wearing a sleeve, and Adora realizes she is never going to tell her. 

She sees it in training and immediately takes a hard, uncharacteristic blow that sends her tumbling. It feels right. If anything, it's a bit too on the nose.

She gets up, she doubles down, and she doesn't let herself think about it again until later. She's walking down the empty halls, alone. She pushes curfew; she's more willing to get caught without Catra by her side. She gets into enough trouble without her instigating it.

Catra, and her stupid, permanent sleeve.

She could remove the wrapping anytime, and while she knows the sleeve is technically the same, it doesn't come across that way. Her mind's set, and Adora is fine with it. She has been for a while.

Of course, she hoped. 

It doesn't matter anymore. She set herself up for failure, and she's not surprised that it's settling down around her.

She needs to let go of the hurt that has echoed around in her chest for too long. It was childish to believe Catra's mark could solve it all—that _Catra_ could solve everything. 

Adora knows she doesn't see it, but Catra has always helped her as much if not more than she protects her in return. She keeps her grounded. She's the reason she smiles everyday. 

If her mark mattered, she would have told her. She keeps secrets from everyone, but Adora isn't everyone.

"Hey, Adora!"

"Hey," she replies with a smile. They're around the corner before she sees who said it, but that's okay. This wasn't it.

It's time to stop shutting it down. She's ready to start hearing it. She wants to love and be open, and the answer is right there on her wrist.

She's never wanted a destiny, but this—this finally feels like a choice.

* * *

Catra leaps at Adora, and she slides out of the way and turns to hip check her from the other side. It's barely enough to force a step for her, and it's one she can see coming. Catra's arm hits across her chest. She catches it and spins them both, aiming to ruffle Catra's hair, but she deftly ducks her hand.

They tumble through the door with their arms slung around each other. Locked together in their loose fighting, if it can even be called that.

She's seen dancing a couple times. She thinks this is what it feels like.

Catra swings her around and clips her low on her side with her shoulder, and they're still laughing as they nearly take someone out with them when she misses a step.

It ends with her on her back, Catra half on top of her, and a long pause before they burst out laughing again. Amazingly, their assailant doesn't budge.

"Hey. Adora, right?" She nods. "Shadow Weaver's looking for you."

There is no waiting when Shadow Weaver summons. There's barely time for an apologetic look at Catra before she sets off. 

If that was her moment, her soulmate mark would have been all three words, if not the full eight. But an hour later, she has a Force Captain badge gleaming on her chest, and she can't help wondering if she missed it. She didn't even remember who delivered the message.

Maybe she could ask Catra.

She shouldn't ask Catra.

She hears footsteps behind her on the lookout. They could have been silent, if Catra wanted; she's glad they aren't. The warning means she doesn't jump when she settles next to her.

"What did Shadow Weaver want?" Adora recognizes the tone. It's the one that's 80 percent teasing and 20 percent fear of her, concern that this time it was something bad.

It rarely was for her.

"I'm a Force Captain," Adora answers quietly. She stills her hands over the badge. She's been turning it over she got up here, but it hasn't dulled the shine.

"Wow," Catra says. She takes it from her and holds it up to her face. No turning, no restlessness. She lowers it a second later. "That's awfully important... of you." 

There's no reading Catra when she's this deliberately shutdown, refusing to look anywhere but out over the Fight Zone, but she hears the implication. She doesn't think she's projecting it.

"Yeah," she says quietly after a long moment. "I suppose it is." 

She doesn't want it to be. She wants to pitch the badge off the ledge, to tell her none of it matters. 

Catra runs a thumb over the badge, and Adora takes it back. In that moment, she almost does it. Almost, but not quite. Instead, she runs her thumb over the smooth lines just as Catra had. 

The quiet minutes slip by—never silent, never here—and Adora pins the badge back on her lapel. It shouldn't be hard. This is everything she's ever wanted.

Catra moves next to her. Adora takes a deep breath before looking at her, only to realize she's gone already without contributing to the sounds of their home.

* * *

"Will you get over yourself?" Catra demands, storming into the dorms. Adora is a step behind her. "Ever since you got that stupid badge, you've been so full of yourself."

She knows it's not true. That might be best proven by how she still sleeps here when, as a Force Captain, she really should be in her own room. It was at her insistence: she didn't want to leave her team.

She couldn't leave Catra.

"Oh, get over _myself_?" she repeats incredulously. "You're the one who has a problem." Not that she could name it. All she knows is it's been an entirely miserable week.

"I do not," Catra snaps. "Everyone already knew you were Shadow Weaver's favorite, and I was a tacked on addition. But now, you're also one of Hordak's, and you love wearing it around all day."

"You're just jealous." Adora always rises to the bait, and she always feels bad about it later. Not right now, though. Right now, it feels good. It feels inevitable and necessary. "Which isn't fair because we both knew— _you said_ it was gonna be me."

"We were supposed to do it together," Catra shouts, her voice cracking at the end.

Adora steps back but doesn't stay anything. It's a long moment of heavy breathing, momentum from a fight that started well before their door swirling around them and pushing them towards whatever was next.

"We're supposed to do it together," Catra repeats quietly. "You and me ruling this place. Of course, I knew you were going to get the badge. Shadow Weaver hates me. Hordak doesn't know me—don't." Adora shuts her mouth, protest silenced for the time being. "But it was still supposed to be you and I."

"It's only been a week. You have to give me a chance to get used to it."

"It's not just the _title_. It's not just this week," says Catra. "Every minute since your soulmate mark showed up has been about you, and overnight, it means nothing? Why have I wasted all this time defending you?"

"In our _soulmate marks_ together?" Adora scoffs. "You won't even tell me yours, Catra. We haven't been in that together for a second."

"I always had your back. You don't need to know it for that to be true."

"I don't understand!" Adora responds. "I don't know what you want from me. Share or don't. I just wish you would tell me _why_."

"I don't want you to know," Catra says coldly. "I don't trust you with it. You keep changing—your mark, your title, they've changed who you are as a person, and I can't take another one."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Catra." Her hands hang at her side, the whole of it makes her feel small and lost. She can't find the problem, let alone the solution, not when every single word opens a new wound. Logically, she knows this is irrational, that it's driven by something deeper, but it's muddled by the sting of what she's saying, the shock of what she didn't realize was building.

For all her ferociousness as a fighter, for all the accidental scratches, Catra never hurts more than she does with words. She has an eye for weakness, and she's at her worst when she uses those pressure points to tear her down.

"It's too late for that." Catra crosses her arms, and the distance between them settles with a permanence she can't see either of them breaching. "I want to know why."

"Why what?"

"Don't do that. You know what." Adora stares at her blankly, and Catra huffs, dropping her arms and looking away from her. "Why you stopped caring. Was it for the promotion? To be the perfect little soldier who doesn't flinch every time she hears 'Hey, Adora.'" Even in anger, the words are sung slightly. Adora so badly wants them to be for her, wants them to resonate deeply and for it all to come together.

It doesn't, though. That's why she had to make the change.

"I haven't stopped caring," she says. "Not for you, not for the _mark_. I'm just—I'm so tired of having it written in stone. These two words have been dictating my every feeling, Catra. I am tense every time I have to talk to someone, and I'm tired of living like that! It doesn't have to control me."

"It controls all of us," Catra answers. "You're not special, Adora."

The silence settles hard between them. The air is weighed down by their harsh words, needing the break as Adora waits for Catra to make the next move, just as she's sure Catra is waiting for her.

She could hit her back. She could hurt her just as swiftly and effectively; she knows all the right places to cut, and she's dug into some of them already.

She can't bring herself to do it.

Adora loves Catra, and Catra doesn't love her back. It's not an easy thing to accept, that. She loves her in her own way; it's just not the one she wants.

"Okay." Catra breaks the silence; Adora should have. "I get it." She turns on her heel and makes as swiftly for the door with a different drive, a slump to her shoulders instead of carrying herself with anger and righteousness.

"Catra, wait—"

It's too late. She doesn't, and Adora is tired of chasing her.

She sits on her bunk _—their bunk—_ and drops her head into her hands.

In those first few moments, she was shocked, to see something so simple scrawled across her arm. It was so easy to see it as something she heard every day, feel it was a burden. It kept her up that first night. She pretended to sleep as Catra slipped off the edge of the bed, until it hit her hard, who she heard it from the most.

She should have realized it immediately. Catra had.

Catra, who makes every effort to not say those words anymore. Catra, who switched from wraps to that sleeve and has never been willing to let Adora into that part of her life.

Catra, who knows and doesn't want to be Adora's soulmate.

And it's fine. It has to be fine. She knows there are plenty of people who say this doesn't dictate their destiny—especially when the Horde made sure they had every bit of their lives dictated to them. It was a grasping for control, a desire to have a choice in their personal life. She gets it. She's not giving up, but it's not her everything anymore.

How long had she known she wanted her mark to point directly at Catra? She used to dream of giving her some indisputable proof, but she got ambiguity.

It's common enough. She can let herself believe that there's someone else.

She doesn't know if she wants that to be the case.

She looks down at the words, and for the first time, she almost wraps them. Almost, but not quite.

She's followed Catra for too long. She might not realize it; no one does. But Adora is completely lost without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thank you to emdashcomma for putting up with my ramblings over these and reading them early.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at ginniebaker


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